Two Broken Souls
by ExuberantReader
Summary: Killian is feeling loathsome and alone on the Jolly Roger and Emma comes to comfort him. Twoshot.
1. Killian

**A/N: A oneshot that I was inspired to make this morning, hope you enjoy!**

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The frost settled on the edges of the Jolly Roger, forming shimmering patterns on the chipped wood. The ship was aphotic, save for the glimmers of moonlight that gave the vessel a luminescent tinge. Killian watched the snow fall, the icy cold breath of winter his only companion as he sat on the gunwale of the Jolly Roger, allowing himself a rare moment to just sit and reflect.

Killian Jones rarely felt sorry for himself. He was a man of action, not contemplation, a man who buried all emotion that may hinder him in his vendetta, leaving behind only revenge and hatred and letting them rule him, often with so much vigor that sometimes even he forgot there was more to him.

He took on a new alias, Captain Hook, and swore to never love again, because love led to loss and he couldn't afford anymore loss. But sometimes being Captain Hook wasn't enough to shutout the feelings of despair and melancholy that so often haunt him.

Since Neverland, Killian has been feeling like a dwindling fire, the anger and resentment of the past burning out, leaving nothing behind to mask the parts of him that ache, exposing a broken soul, marked by the tell-tale scars left by loss, abandonment and heartbreak. He feels like cinder, burnt out and useless, the repugnant waste of something that once glowed so bright with the fire of promise and potential.

Truthfully this isn't the first time he's felt this way. Ever since his father first abandoned him as a child these emotions have been growing in the deepest, darkest pits of him, growing blacker and more intense with each impediment that hits him. Each obstacle scars him even more, making it harder to bounce back each time.

His father's rejection started the cataclysm of Killian's character, the pain from Liam's death coupled with the heartbreak after Milah's death made him forget himself for 300 years and broke something inside of him, something he let the darkness inside of him sew it up every time.

In the past when moments like this hit, all it took was a good swig of rum (or perhaps the whole bottle) to make him feel like whole and merry again. What he would do for a barrel of rum right now, a barrel so big he could swim in it and drown the demons threatening to consume him. He yearns for the burn of alcohol in his throat right now, the buzz and pleasurable intoxication that comes from downing a bottle of rum, but most importantly the ability to temporally _forget_.

He begun to make an effort to get his flask out before remembering he had thrown out all alcoholic beverages because it was 'bad form'. He scowls to himself, hating himself for his lack of foresight, among other things.

So deep is he in his momentous labyrinth of self-pity that he doesn't hear the soft pattering of footprints and the presence of another soul until she's right next to him. He moves his gaze upwards, into the deep green orbs belonging to Emma Swan. He smiles halfheartedly, gesturing to the empty space beside him. Taking her place beside him she frowns, after a pause, glancing over at him. "Wait, I come to your ship late at night and you don't even have a snarky innuendo? Are you feeling alright Captain Hook?" she teases.

It's genuine concern masked by humour and Killian acknowledges this. He cracks a smile, keeping his eyes fixated on the falling snow, trepidation keeping him silent.

"Killian..."Her voice knocks him out of his thoughts and the sound of his name on her lips revives him. He hadn't heard his name spoken with such tenderness in over 300 years and it encourages him to break the floodgates that so carefully guard his thoughts.

Voice thick with emotion he articulates the feelings churning up inside of him, of Liam and Milah, of his fears that he is becoming a monster and that Killian Jones is just a memory that can't be salvaged from the ruins he has become. He's speaking in a rhapsodic cadence and Emma sits there, listening until he's raw and she's the one holding him up, keeping him strong. His breath heaves as he sinks his head into Emma's shoulder, finally taking a moment to let all his guards down, Emma murmurs reassurance into his ears until she senses that comfort from another human is the best gift she can give him at this moment and lowers her head until it is resting on his head, silently giving him strength. In the morning the feeling of hopelessness and self-hate will pass and they won't speak of this moment of vulnerability, but for now the two broken souls sit in tranquility, watching the snow fall.

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**Not my best work I'll admit, but I just couldn't get this idea out of my head and I had to do something with it. **

**Reviews make my day and inspire me to write more :)**


	2. Emma

**A/N: Hello, so I have decided to add a second chapter to this, making it a twoshot. Thanks you all for your lovely reviews, they inspired me to write more, in particular a shoutout must go to Bonnie (pieanddeductions) and onetreefan! Anyway this is basically Chapter 1 from Emma's point of view, enjoy!**

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Since getting back from Neverland and her year in New York, Emma has been encompassed by a seemingly never-ending league of individuals, varying from her family, close friends and random fairytale characters who have found it in their best interest to greet Emma and profusely thank her for bringing them back to the land of central heating and savoury condiments. Even a few weeks after her return she's still being praised and surprisingly the only place she gets some peace is at the ever so popular Granny's.

It's slightly overwhelming to say the least and at times she's hit with an ephemeral desire to be alone, an instinct born from the years of loneliness and seclusion. It often hits her, before leaving just as quickly as it came.

She basks in the newfound promise of having people, of having friends and family here for her and frankly it's intoxicating to know that there's an Emma Swan shaped gap in people's lives that no new baby or deteriorating funds can fill.

But sometimes being surrounded by this influx of people makes her feel like she's suffocating, choking on the demands fed to her; of being a saviour, a mother, a daughter.

In fact for the first time since she's been branded with this insignia there's only one person who's made her feel forget the weight thrust upon her.

Hook.

He's made her feel like a kite, light and floating, with not a worry in the world. She's better with him, sharper, more focused, confident in her ability. She's let her walls crumble with him, let him see the real Emma Swan, the broken lost girl who didn't think she ever mattered or ever would. And he's accepted her. He's stayed.

She sees traces of him everywhere, from the leather exterior of the chairs that resembled his daily attire so well, to the miniscule image of a ship on the menu. And then it hits her.

Customers around her look up distractedly; responding to the screech of the chair against the tiled floor as Emma quickly grabs her coat and scarf, questioning why she was sitting around at Granny's, mingling with the various fairytale characters when she knows where she really wants to be is with him, with _Hook_. Blasts of artic wind hit her as soon as she exits the main room and for a while the only sounds that can be heard are her shoes clicking on the docks. She treks until the smell of the sea is in her lungs and the bobbing shadow of the Jolly Roger is in sight.

Her eyes shift around the deck of ship, taking in the tussled mask and spotless deck, devoid of anything, or anyone, before coming to a rest of the figure sitting sombrely on the edge of the Jolly Roger, head bowed down as if in prayer. The snowflakes are tumbling down on him, melting as they hit the leather he's clothed in, before dripping onto the wood to freeze again. His hook glistens in the moonlight, illuminating his pained face.

He looks vulnerable, anguish written all over his face, an inferno of loathing raging relentlessly in his eyes. She should leave; let him wallow in self-pity for a while. A voice nags in her head, there's nothing that _she _could do that would help him. But…

There's something familiar in his expression, something that stops her in her tracks and silences the nagging voice in her head. She cocks her head to one side, attempting to pinpoint where she's seen that expression before, when it runs out and dances in her of her. Herself. That look in his eye… she had it. Suddenly she's transported back, back to her years in the foster system, back to when Neal left her and it stings, stings like acid to remember the despair, the feeling of being cast away, discarded, unwanted. She remembers wondering _why, _why did people always leave her, she remembers feeling inadequate and insecure before the self-loathing flooded in, because it was _her_. She was the problem; she was just unlovable, repulsive, a child spawned from the waste of the wicked, a lowly thief destined for insignificance, a curse upon the world.

It took her years to realise that how she perceived herself was in fact the opposite of what she truly was. Slowly she let herself be stitched up by the hands of others, by Mary Margaret, Henry, David… Hook.

She shakes herself out of her musings and watches him for a while, watches his ragged breathing, takes note of the way his eyes reflect the ocean and how his rest vest sinfully stops exactly horizontal to the curve in his biceps, exposing the dark hairs that sprout from his chiselled chest**…**

Her legs move of their own accord, he's like a magnet and she's drawn to him. He doesn't notice her until she's right beside him. With a smile bereft of his usual easy going charm and movements slow, like he was moving his arm through tar, he gestured to the empty space on his left. Accepting his offer she frowns, making a joke to test the waters. "Wait, I come to your ship late at night and you don't even have a snarky innuendo? Are you feeling alright Captain Hook?" she smirks, trying to unravel the walls he's put up by making him more at ease. It works a bit, he cracks a smile and it's like seeing sparks when trying to start a fire in the dark. This doesn't faze her, for a spark is all that is needed to start a full-fledged flame. The silence between them persists for a few minutes as idea knocks around in her head, ceaselessly bounding, exclaiming, wanting to be heard; _you know how to get through to him. _And she does.

"Killian…" she starts, the name burning on her mouth, her voice softening down to a whisper. How long had he waited to hear his name, how long had _she_ wanted it to pass through her lips? The sound of his name coming from her acts like a key, unlocking the secrets he hides inside of him. After a moment's hesitation he lets loose.

It all pours out at once, of his lost brother Liam, of his first love Milah and his quest to avenge them. He fears he's become a monster and at that Emma has an urge to wrap her arms around him and comfort him, because she's been down that path, felt the same way and it excruciates her to think that he of all people feels that way. She hums words of gratification in his ear, words she'd wished she heard when she felt this way until she senses that silent company is the best she can give him at this point. Wrapping her slender arms around him and brushing her lips against his jet black hair they sit on the rocking boat serenely absorbing each other's presence. And that's enough for now.

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**So what were your thoughts on this chapter? Reviews are like cookie dough frozen yoghurt! Which I have never had before, but apparently it's a flavour and I kinda need it in my life. I'm assuming it's amazing though, I mean it's cookie dough and frozen yogurt :p**


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